


Let’s do the Time Warp Again

by MistressDandelion



Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-23 20:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16625630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressDandelion/pseuds/MistressDandelion
Summary: Kris wakes up feeling. . . Strange. Can they figure out what’s wrong before it’s too late?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is. . . Something new I’m working on.
> 
> Partially, I’m writing it because I miss having the instant validation that comes from writing fic.
> 
> But what can I say, Deltarune just gave me feels, and I’d like to share them with y’all!

_You’re five years old the first time you wonder why you look different from your family._

_The other monsters at school tease you, calling you_ human _, and_ blood brain. _You don’t understand the names. You don’t know what a human is, or why it would be a bad thing if you were one._

_Even Monster Kid laughs, but he looks guilty when he does it._

_Your mom puts a stop to the teasing, but she doesn’t know what it’s about. No one wants to tell her. She starts up a game, one of her learning games. The other kids leave you alone after that._

_Later, Monster Kid asks if it bothers you when the others laugh._

_You tell him you don’t know what they’re laughing about._

_“You’re a human.” He looks embarrassed, but he tells you all the same. “You’re not a monster.”_

_You still don’t know what a human is._

 

———

 

By the end of the day, you’re absolutely certain that something’s wrong. It was hard to tell at first, harder still to know what exactly was wrong. You’re _still_ not sure what’s going on.

But something’s wrong.

You haven’t been quite. . . yourself.

Susie leaves with a shy request. It seems she enjoyed hanging out with you. She enjoyed. . . _that,_ whatever _that_ was. A dream, or a game of make believe, maybe even a real adventure. Whatever it was, Susie wants to do it again tomorrow.

You want to follow her, urge your body after her as she leaves, but you can’t.

Instead, you’re forced the other way. Forced to examine everything in school again. You find the storage closet door. It’s locked. It’s always locked after school hours.

This isn’t exactly the first time you’ve been in the school after hours. Mom stays late often enough that the empty school holds no fears for you.

But usually Mom is there. If not right beside you, she’s in her classroom or in the office, finishing up some work before giving you a ride home. Asriel used to be there, too, before he left. Wandering the empty halls feels different now, if only because you simply don’t want to be doing it.

You want to go home.

You want to go back to normal.

You duck in and out of empty classrooms, looking at different items.

Mom’s classroom, where she teaches the little monsters. The toys they get to play with. The chairs they stack together at the end of the day.

Finally, your body is dragged toward the front doors.

Your phone rings.

You pick up without saying a word. You’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to even if you tried.

“Kris?? Is that you?” It’s Mom. She sounds worried sick, scared and angry. It’s a combination she’s perfected. “Where have you been? I waited for over half an hour for you, and you never came. Finally I went home, but when I called around, no one else had seen you since this morning!”

You want to tell her the truth. You want to beg for her help.

Instead, you hear your voice tell her you were with a friend. Does Susie count as a friend? Before _whatever_ that was in the unused classroom, you might have called her an enemy. Nothing more than a casual acquaintance who you’d never exchanged more than a few words with.

“A friend?” She sounds instantly relieved. “Well. . . If that’s the case, I suppose I can make an exception. You can come home when you like, but. . . I’ll still have you punish you for making me worry. And for cutting class.”

That seems fair. You want to go home right away, tell her what happened, ask her what she thinks of it all.

She doesn’t seem worried at all when you don’t say a word. You hang up on her. You’re dragged onward, out of the school, through the town.

As much as you’d like to simply go home and rest, you find yourself walking slowly through town. You stop in every building, talk to every person you see. With each passing moment you grow more and more tired, more and more anxious.

And more and more sure that the feelings you’re feeling are not your own.

This seems all the more true when you spot a skeleton in the distance. Your heart does a little jump, a sort of bittersweet familiarity bubbling up inside you. Underneath that, your stomach is queasy. You wonder if you’re even able to throw up, or if even that action would be denied you.

You don’t know this skeleton. He doesn’t look familiar at all. And still you _run_ up to him, greeting him with an enthusiasm you don’t recognize.

“It’s good to see you again!”

Where are the words coming from? You’ve never seen this monster in your life. But the feeling is still there, the feeling of familiarity and. . . Even fondness? It’s a feeling you’re only used to associating with Asriel. No one else could ever make you as happy as seeing Asriel, yet this stranger brings out a bittersweet yearning in you.

It makes you sick.

He looks taken aback, shifting his eyes to the side. “uh yeah good to see you too. even though we’ve never met before. i’m Sans. Sans the skeleton. my little brother and i are new in town, so i don’t know too many people. got any people i should absolutely be friends with?”

You don’t care who this skeleton befriends.

When your voice says “Me,” you try to take it back. You can’t.

“woah, you can’t just rush a friendship like that, buddy. it takes time.” He goes quiet.

You don’t know why you’re bothering this stranger.

He’s standing with his hands in the pockets of his blue jacket. Eyes shifted to the side, occasionally moving to your face for an instant just to slide away again just as quickly, he looks uncomfortable. It’s quiet.

. . .

“that’s long enough! put ‘er there.”

He holds out a hand. You think he’s going for a handshake, but instead, he’s holding out a slip of paper. A number is scrawled on it. Did he just give you his number??

“you can call that if you ever need a hand. by the way, could you do me a favor? my little brother doesn’t know anyone yet either. if you could come watch him for me tomorrow, that’d be great.”

You don’t know this monster. You don’t want to meet his little brother or do any favors for him.

For once, you’re forced into agreement with yourself, and you say no.

He doesn’t seem concerned. He only shrugs, grinning a grin so wide it’s unnerving. You wonder how a skeleton can do anything but grin.

“great, well, see you tomorrow then, kid.”

 

By the time you finally return home, you’re exhausted. It’s gotten hard, so hard to try doing anything. Fighting the _thing_ that’s pushing you onward is just so, so hard. So you let it carry you inside. You let it talk to Mom with your voice, telling her you had a good day, and that you might even spend another day with your friend tomorrow.

It finally drags you to bed, and you collapse.

Sleep takes you.

You wake up in the dark.

You yawn and stretch, and realize your body is yours again.

The first thing you do with your newfound freedom is run to the bathroom and retch. You throw up every bad feeling you had that day, purging the sensation of being trapped, locked inside your own body while some _thing_ lived your life for you.

Mom finds you there, kneeling in front of the toilet and crying.

“Kris? Sweetie, are you sick? You didn’t get into the pie, did you? I told you, it’d be cool when you woke up.”

You shake your head, hiccuping with sobs. You’re afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll throw up again.

What can you tell her that will make sense? There’s nothing, nothing that she’ll understand. Nothing that will make her see what an awful day you’ve had. Would she believe you, if you told her about the _thing?_ Or would she shrug it off, attribute it to something benign?

Instead of words, you resort to the same nonverbal communication that served you so well as a child. You reach toward her, lifting both arms in a wordless plea.

She understands.

She gathers you into her arms and pulls you up to your feet. You’re too big for her to carry any more, but she can still engulf you in a hug, folding you into a warmth that seals you off from the rest of the world. You rest in her arms, tears still flowing silently down your cheeks to soak into her fur.

“Maybe you’d better stay home from school tomorrow.” She feels your forehead, but you’re not feverish. Or maybe you are. Maybe it was all just a fever dream.

She puts you to bed, promising that she’ll make you whatever you want tomorrow while you rest. Promising you ice cream in bed and no hassling about homework.

You wonder if Asriel would come home early if you were seriously ill.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kris begins to have suspicions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still trying to figure out where exactly this is going.
> 
> It’s probably going no where. :shrug:

_ You’re seven years old when the girl next door plays a little too rough with you. _

_ Noelle didn't mean it. You’ve known her since before you can remember, her and her parents. You and Asriel play with her almost every day after school, but Asriel didn’t want to play today.  _

_ You and Noelle were playing Humans and Monsters.  _

_ She makes you be the human, and you chase her around the yard. If you touch her, she’s dead.  _

_ Maybe you play a scary human too well. _

_ You tried to catch her, running so hard your lungs wanted to burst. And you reached out, stretching, stretching to catch her arm, her clothes, some part of her.  _

_ She darted out of the way at the last instant, screaming with laughter.  _

_ You fell.  _

_ Your knees burn, and your hands sting. Tears come, but only a few. You don’t like to cry, especially not in front of Noelle. Instead, you look at your wounds. A scraped knee—your pants are ruined. Mom won’t be happy about that. And raw, aching scratches on your palms, where you caught yourself in the dirt. The scrapes bleed, but only a little. _

_ You’re used to getting hurt. _

_ Noelle sees you on the ground, and she comes to make sure you’re okay. _

_ “Are you hurt, Kris?” She tries to help you up, but she sees the blood.  _

_ You tell her it’s fine, you’re okay.  _

_ “Is that—is that b-bl-bloo—” She can’t say the word. She looks ready to cry, or scream, or run away.  _

_ You don’t want Noelle to be afraid.  _

_ You tell her it’s ketchup. That you’re just playing a trick.  _

_ Later, you bandage your palms and throw the ruined pants away. There was blood on them anyway, not like Mom could fix them. _

 

———

 

You wake when the curtains fly back and release the furious morning sunlight. 

“Kris,  it’s late. You can’t be late to class again.” Mom’s voice is tired.

You peer up at her from the mound of blankets, shielding your eyes with one hand. Your mouth tastes like you’ve been eating garbage. Your thoughts can’t quite seem to get going, your brain stuttering and coughing as you turn the key. 

Turning.

Grinding.

Stuttering.

“Kris.” Mom stops by the door before she leaves. She looks back at you, her eyes sad. “Asriel is coming home soon. It’ll all be okay. Now come on, I won’t wait all day.” She leaves you to drag yourself out of bed.

The calendar on the wall catches your eye. Six days until Asriel comes home. You’ve been marking them off for the last month, making dark x’s over each day that drags by. Now it’s just one last week.

You wonder what Asriel’s doing right now.

Studying for an exam? Taking an exam?

Eating breakfast with the friends he’s made at college. . .?

You spend a lot of time looking at the things in your room. 

It’s like you’ve never seen them before, examining each object with interest tinged with sadness. The video games under your bed remind you of Asriel. 

The mirror in the hall reflects back at you. It’s only you. A reflection of a too thin, long-limbed, post-puberty you. You need a haircut, but you can’t bring yourself to do anything more with your hair than let it fall where it will.

Usually that’s right into your eyes.

You go to school with mom, and she’s needlessly peppy. She talks a lot about Asriel, and the plans she has for his homecoming. You just want to see him again. Maybe go get hot chocolate with him like you used to. It sounds like mom’s got his entire stay planned out.

You wonder when he’ll have any free time to spend with you.

You don’t feel quite yourself. Even mom comments on how quiet you are, and you think she’d be used to it by now. Asriel was always the chatty one. 

 

———

 

You end the day with a sick feeling in your stomach. 

Susie offers you a shy smile, the first genuine smile she’s given you since you first met her so many years ago. You wonder if she even remembers that you used to sometimes play together, when Asriel was too busy or when she had to wait for her ride after school. Sometimes she waited for hours, until it was dark and your mom would offer her a ride home.

She always declined.

You’re glad she joined you for the adventure you shared. Glad you let her into it. 

But the sick feeling in your stomach continues. 

Something is very wrong. Something that you noticed this morning, when mom woke you and you felt unable to formulate a thought. It’s been like that all day, your thoughts coming sluggishly and only with difficulty. You can’t help feeling like your own thoughts are being pushed aside, sequestered in the private, innermost corners of your mind. Pushed there, caged there, by something  _ else. _

A foreign feeling, urging strange thoughts and actions that leave you flushed with shame, or embarrassment. Things you’d never do, words you’d never say. All done with your body and your voice, so that no one even suspected.

It’s the same when you leave school. People look at you with surprise when you approach them and speak. 

“It’s been, like, such a long time since we’ve seen you!” Your neighbor says, flicking her hair from her face. “You’re, like, always so quiet.” 

No one seems to notice anything wrong. 

Except Mr. Holiday. He gives you a strange look as you talk. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You know it better than any of us! I’ve known you since you were a little kid, Kris. Now it’s like you don’t even remember my name!” He says it with a smile, like it’s a joke, but you can see the worry behind his eyes. It’s in the way he looks at you, searching your face while his smile melts away. 

You want to tell him that you  _ do  _ know him. That he’s been a constant presence in your life since you were little, your dad’s best friend, the one who always came to the holidays with you and your family. But you turn around and leave before you can even try. 

You feel his eyes on you all the way out the door.

The nurse out front asks if you’ve come to play the piano again. “You just play so well, Kris.” She says, and she smiles. She’s nothing  _ but  _ smile.

You do want to play. Apparently, so does the rest of you. You’re dragged across the floor to the miniature hospital piano. You know exactly what you want to play, the lullaby your mom used to sing to you and Asriel every night. But your fingers are heavy and clumsy on the keys, and nothing but a discordant jangle comes out of the instrument.

It’s a sound you never would have made on your own, but you can’t make your fingers press the right keys. You’re not controlling your hands, and whatever  _ is,  _ doesn’t know the song you want to play. 

You’re dragged all over town, and you’re exhausted by the time you get home.

It’s all you can do to give the flowers to mom, offering them without a word. You don’t want to, don’t want to see the look on her face when she guesses who they’re from, but you’re forced to do it anyway.

At first, she smiles. “Oh, Kris, you shouldn’t have!” And then you see her smile falter. She hesitates, her eyes going cold. “Oh, they’re not from you, are they? They’re from him? That’s alright, Kris. I have a special place for these!”

She’s trying to be cheery, but you know what she does with the flowers. 

You don’t have a choice as you’re finally dragged off to bed. 

You fall asleep before you’re quite aware you’ve lain down.

When you wake, surrounded by darkness, you feel more like yourself. Your thoughts rush in, more complete than they’ve been all day.

What the hell is going on? 

You lay awake for a long time, wondering if maybe you’re going crazy. It’s not possible, to be controlled. You don’t believe in demons or possessions, things that creep into your mind and take control of you while you’re not looking. 

You wonder if you should wake mom and tell her, but you’re not sure she’d understand.

She’d tell you to take responsibility for your actions. If you don’t like a thing you’ve done, apologize and promise never to do it again. 

You can’t make a promise you won’t keep. Because by now you’re sure you’re not in control of your actions. 

You sleep restlessly


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kris starts to make a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve gotten a few lovely comments on this and I really appreciate it! I’m still not sure where I’m going with this, but it’s always fun to see comments! That’s actually pretty much the reason I wrote this chapter. 
> 
> So thank you! Thanks for reading and commenting :)

_You’re eight when you ask your parents why you’re different._

_You know what a human is, now. The others were more than happy to fill you in. It’s not hard to figure out that you’re bad when all the other kids are yelling it at you._

Human

Blood brain

Worthless

Useless

_And totally alone._

_Your mom looks at you with that special look, the one that she gives you when you’ve surprised her. Dad just looks awkward, rubbing the back of his head and glancing around the diner. Maybe QC’s wasn’t the best place to ask, but you feel braver with Asriel beside you._

_He’s been so busy lately._

_“What do you mean?” Mom asks._

_You tell her you know you’re not a monster. Mom and Dad and Asriel all have fur, and horns. Asriel is already so much taller than you; you don’t know why you’ve stayed so little._

_You tell her you’ve heard all the stories. You know that humans are bad, and that there aren’t any more around (though you don’t know why that is)._

_You just want to know why, or how, or. . ._

_Mom reaches across the table to pat your hand. “You’re still our child. Nothing can change that.”_

_You weren’t worried about that._

_They’re the only family you’ve ever known. Asriel the only brother you’ve ever had, or could ever want. He looks at you and puts an arm around your shoulders._

_“Not all humans are bad.” He says._

_You don’t know how he would know that. He’s only a few years older than you._

 

———

 

The sun slashes into your dreams, red and yellow glaring down on you through your eyelids. You blink awake, squinting up into the sunshine. Mom’s thrown the curtains wide, waking you.

“It’s late, Kris. Time for school.”

You glance at the calendar, sighing. Six more days until Asriel comes home. You’ve been marking the days off—had you marked a day off last night? After. . . everything? You can’t remember.

You ask mom how long until Asriel comes home.

She stops in the door, looking back at you with the same look she’s had for weeks. Months. Since Asriel left, really. It’s a look that’s half sad, half hopeless. Like she’s barely holding on.

“He’ll be home in six days, Kris. You’ve been keeping track, haven’t you?” Her eyes flick to the calendar.

You follow her gaze, and you take in the days you’ve crossed out. Heavy black X’s, where you mark each day that passes with agonizing slowness. Six days.

Six days.

How long has it been six days?

The thought surprises you. Before you can explore it further, you’re yanked out of bed. You immediately feel sick, your stomach bunching into a worried knot. You shrink away from the feeling, relinquishing control instantly. You don’t know why this feels so familiar.

How many times has this happened?

How could you become familiar with the feel of someone else moving your body? Using your voice to respond to mom’s chatter in the car. Using your legs to take you practically running through school, hurrying through class, rushing through an encounter with Susie.

Her hands are rough as she slams you into a locker, but you almost don’t even feel it. Not any more. You don’t even respond during her speech, not that you could have if you’d wanted to. You just let it happen, along for the ride as she takes you to the closet.

The closet.

Where you and Asriel used to play. When you were kids.

Before he left.

Before things changed.

You wonder how many times you’ve decided to let Susie in on this secret, how many times you’ve invited her in to the world you and Asriel used to share. You wonder if it’s your decision at all, or only the choice of the thing.

You wonder if you have any choices any more at all.

 

———

 

You end the day with a lap around the town. You thought you’d seen it all before, but this time you wander down and down, past the furthest edge of town. You’ve been down here before of course, but not for many years.

You wonder what the thing will think of the bunker.

You spend a long time exploring the area.

You don’t find anything.

Your conversation with the skeleton is awkward. You can’t explain why he feels so familiar. It’s a feeling you might have called comforting, if it didn’t make you so nervous now. You know you’ve met him before, but he doesn’t remember it.  

He’s met your mom, though, and he remembers her.

He already “befriended” her the night before.

You can’t tell if he’s trying to be funny. Or if he’s serious.

Good for mom, then, if it’s true. She’s been sad lately. Sad and tired and trying so hard to keep up appearances. She doesn’t go out any more, unless she has to. You wonder if she’d go to QC’s with you for some hot chocolate. Maybe you can get her to go when Asriel’s home.

You don’t give the flowers to mom this time.

You can’t stand to see the look in her eyes when she realizes who they’re from. You can’t do that to her again. And you’re glad that the thing apparently agrees.

There’s nothing you could do if it didn’t.

It doesn’t drag you around too much longer. You’re almost glad mom sends you to bed early. It’s still light out, but you’re dragged to bed and you lay down.

You wonder how long it will take before it lets go. Before you’re back in control.

You try to stay awake, to see it happen, but you fall asleep almost before your head hits the pillow.

You wake in darkness, gasping out of a nightmare. Your stomach is in knots again, but it’s the sick feeling of finally being free, not the stressed knots of being trapped. You kick out of bed, frantic.

There’s a theory rolling through your head. It’s been knocking around in there for a few hours. You’re pretty sure you’re correct.

This day keeps repeating.

Of that you’re sure.

You don’t know how or why, but you’re sure you’ve done this all before. You’ve played the game with Susie, staying in the unused classroom long after school hours.

Stumbling in your hurry, you rush to the calendar on the wall. You snatch up the pen you use to mark the days until Asriel’s return. When you’re done marking the day, you can’t even see the date any more, the entire square scribbled black. You mark it so you’ll be sure to see it the next morning. Be sure that a day has passed, and Asriel will be home in five days.

Five days, and he’ll come home to you.

 

———

 

You wake up with sunshine streaming down on you from the window, mom’s tired voice prompting you up.

You look immediately at the calendar in the instant before you feel yourself pulled out of bed.

Six days.

No black mark.

Shit.


End file.
